Paradise
by sahdah
Summary: A girl with a hidden secret. A man struggling to go on. Fate brings them together one dark night. In a world gone mad, will they give up the only lives they've known and carve out their own paradise? A Post Apocalypse AU Warnings: language and canon style violence.


Both hands came up to her mouth to stifle her scream as the structure above her shook with the tremors of another blast. The lights flickered, damaged, but still burning. The riots couldn't reach her, not down here, she thought.

Eruka looked around her small garden sanctuary. It grew all manner of small sedum plants. Slowly, ever so slowly, she had begun acquiring the things that brought a small glimmer of happiness to her otherwise dark existence. It was her reprieve from delegation duties.

Delegations from Medusa. After the plague _Asura_ had been loosed, a third of the population perished. In the ensuing panic, Lord Charon had been usurped and Medusa Gorgon was unanimously chosen to replace him.

The morbidly named Death City had turned against their trusted leader in favor of the woman who provided the cure. As the head of medical research with Gorgon Industries, Medusa had been instrumental in healing those affected by the madness. Sure, there had been some unforeseen complications and mutations caused by the miracle black blood, but that was to be expected.

Eruka had been little when it all happened. Orphaned. All alone. But Medusa had so graciously (and publicly) taken her in. This was her reality; she didn't know any different.

Looking up at the stone ceiling, she tried to ascertain whether it would hold. After a moment, she picked up her watering can from where it sat at the far end of the room. Walked, slowly through her little sanctuary as she talked to her plants while she watered them.

This place had at one time been a cistern for rainwater. The rain was channeled down where it would fill her watering can and spill over to a large stone basin. It had been this way long before the estate had been built, and long before Medusa had acquired it. Eruka hoped that its presence was of little significance to Medusa.

Carefully, she checked to see the UV lanterns were still working properly- they were the only source of light for her plants- when the next bomb hit. Eruka screamed and dove towards the cistern, "Jackson!"

Sounds of concrete and stone rained down around her like earthy hail. The room pitched into darkness only to be replaced with a soft glow of the luminescent larva growing in the dank, cave-like space she had reclaimed. The water bubbled and a giant tadpole broke the surface, searching for her. Eruka had taken pity on the poor thing; she brought him to her sanctuary and there he had kept growing. He was her only friend and confidant in this cruel, soulless world.

"It's- it's gonna be okay, Jackson," Eruka whimpered, feeling anything but confident. She just knew she couldn't go on like this. It was too unbalanced, the dark overtaking any light.

Jackson, for his part, bobbed glumly against Eruka's outstretched hand, offering what little comfort he could.

X

The sounds of the curfew warning startled Eruka awake.

"Shit," she croaked hoarsely. "Shit, shit, shit…"

Those who were caught outside after hours were met with unthinkable consequences, and curfew would be in effect before she would ever make it home. What was worse was that, on the off chance she evaded Medusa's guards, as a ward of the chancellor she held no hope that she would be spared the rod. No, Eruka knew without doubt she'd be made an example of.

The only blessing was that the lights had come back on while she was sleeping. Quickly, she double checked to be sure the timers were still working, everything looked okay. So she adjusted them to the correct time now after nine P.M., which immediately plunged her, the little garden, and her dearest friend back into the luminescence offered by a few glow worms and some of the small plants that warded off the heavy darkness, if only a little. She kissed tadpole Jackson on his dome, the coolness of his amphibious skin giving her some courage.

Adjusting her posture to reflect bravery she did not feel, she made her way out of the old structure. There was quite a distance to cover before she made it back to the city. One hand was curled protectively on the only means of protection she had, a very small can of aerosol deodorant. While she would rather have pepper spray, weapons were banned in the city. Even the guards were limited to batons- though she'd seen them used mercilessly against unsuspecting citizens.

There were whispers of strange things these days, though. Whispers that there were people who _could_ turn into weapons, that were starting to retaliate against Medusa and her regime. Eruka wasn't sure how she felt about that. She herself was beginning to suspect that she could do magic? Witchcraft? It was feeble, yet there was also no way she should have been able to grow the things she had down in her secret dungeon. But she did.

"Hullo, poppet," a deep male voice spoke.

Eruka was painfully aware of her mistake at the worst moment possible. Daydreaming had caused her to completely forgo the awareness of her surroundings. She had to be maybe a block or so from her little flat, but her panicked heart started racing as she realized she might not ever see it again.

A man wearing a page boy cap materialized from the shadows. Eruka froze momentarily; she knew she was breaking curfew, that it was against the law. But she was also trying to rush home. Something felt really wrong about the man being out and the creepy grin he wore added to her anxiety.

"Ahh!" she squeaked, trying to rein in her terror. Bravery wasn't and hadn't ever been her strongest characteristic. Her eyes darted madly around trying to find any sort of exit.

"She looks scared," another voice came from behind her.

Eruka whirled around, clutching her hand bag to her chest. Her palm was sweaty around the small can she was desperately trying to hold on to so she could focus on aiming. This man also resembled the first; he too wore a cap. "L-l-leave me alone," she'd wanted to shout it, but it came out in a tiny, pleading whimper.

"I like them scared." A third man sneered.

All her worst nightmares played out in her head at once. Almost like it didn't come from her, she heard herself as if from a distance. "Fuck you!"

The first man cornered her, pressing his body against hers forcefully. The heat of the bricks still radiated and made her feel claustrophobic, a stark contrast from the coolness of where she'd come. Her heart constricted painfully from wondering if poor Jackson would be doomed to die alone in her sanctuary. She couldn't think of that now, so the girl screwed her eyes shut tight and wished for a swift end.

A heavy crash came from the entrance of the alleyway followed by a cursed, "Goddamnedshit."

The arm across her chest loosened and Eruka sneaked a peek. A large person dressed like an olden day criminal was blocking the entrance of the alleyway. It was hard to tell who they were. They wore a large gray wolf mask, but the voice sounded decidedly male. If possible, Eruka whimpered even more. Another would-be-assailant had been drawn in by the three that were about to hurt her. Her knees gave out and the last thing she felt was her head cracking hard against the cobblestone street.

* * *

Eyes on the needle in hand, ears attuned to the sound of the vibrating that he felt in his fingers and palm, Free concentrated on the ink placement- tuning everything else out.

When the doorbell chimed, he responded automatically. "Sign in, be with you in a moment."

There was a squeak in the general direction of the front door. Still, he focused on the task at hand, wiping the excess ink, blood, and plasma away with the rag in his hand. The smell of it toyed with his senses in ways that most mundane people would never notice.

"Bruh," the young man in the chair spoke up. "That looks so rad."

Free only grunted. He could hear the door click shut against the bell again, which was normal. The scent that accompanied the displaced air was not.

The hand with the pen froze in place, his foot came off the pedal and the sound of the tattoo gun disappeared, like a bubble popped by a child. He knew who had entered his shop, but he couldn't fathom any reason why. By his sense of smell and her heat signature, he could tell she had sat down to wait.

"Everything cool?" the loud-mouthed guy asked.

Free turned to look at him, not really seeing him at all, bit the side of his cheek and continued with the work, grunting some sort of acknowledgement. The guy currently under the needle was his last appointment. Only now he noticed the windows facing the west were burning orange. He'd have to tell the walk-in no. Where had the time gone?

Five minutes later, he gave the guy the final wipe down, flushing the skin with his squeeze pump irrigating bottle. He used a solution of his own making. After giving the guy the normal care routine spiel he walked him to the door, pocketing the agreed upon sum.

A part of him wondered if he should even be trusted with just her, alone in his shop.

It had taken everything he had that night not to kill those bastards. She'd hit her head pretty hard; he was sure she hadn't seen his face. And even if she had, it wasn't the same face he was wearing now.

"Uh-" Not sure how to begin, he felt awkward and his heart rate sped up when she looked up at him. Small heart-shaped face framed by blunt ice-blue fringe and those striking slate gray eyes that had caught his attention when he was debating whether or not to step in.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help; on the contrary, he was out there in the dark, fighting. But- this girl was known. This was the girl that Medusa Gorgon had plucked from dying society and publicly saved, embodiment of everything he was working against. Of everything he was trying to make right and retribution for the things that had been done to him, the wrongs that had befallen his family.

What ultimately led to his helping her was the fact that she, clearly scared, tried to face her fear. Of course then he'd plummeted into the dumpster like a fucking idiot- but again he was a changed _man._

"-Curfew is coming up," he reminded. Watching her face carefully, noting her arm cross over her chest to itch her other arm, he became aware of blood rising- checked himself but then realized it was her cheeks that were dusting to a rosy red.

"I know," she finally whispered, looking at the dying light in the windows. "I just," and her demeanor seemed to strengthen with some resolve, "I want a tattoo. I can come back but- I'd rather it be now."

He didn't want to be intrigued, but against his better judgement, he asked, "So?"

Her eyebrows knit in confusion, cheeks growing a deeper red. It gave him an odd sort of satisfaction that he could ruffle her like that while he tried to hide how much he was struggling in return. "Your tattoo," he pressed. "What's your design?"

Free watched as the light bulb clicked. A wordless "oh" on her lips.

"I want black spots-"

He watched as her eyes narrowed, searching his face. Did she think he was going to laugh? But before he could say anything, she continued.

"-here," she indicated one corner of her mouth, "and here," she said.

"Okay." He followed her finger with great fascination and watched as it touched the other corner.

"How much?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood rooted, head tilted interestingly back, creamy neck exposed while she tried to keep him in her vision.

This tiny specimen of a woman intrigued him and for the first time in a long time, he questioned marring something so untainted. "Shop minimum is $75," he answered her at length.

She made some noise of assent and he indicated that she should follow him back to his work station. Should he be left alone with her, he questioned, but then put it out of his mind. Right now, he had to clean his space. The action made him feel more centered as he realized he felt off-center at all.

His skin prickled where he imagined slate eyes watching him work. Curious, he wanted to ask, why the spots? Why the in-your-face placement, literally? He kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, after he had his area cleaned and set, "I need to make the transfer sheets-"

He watched her mouth moving to form a question that he answered before she could ask. "-don't worry, you'll see."

Her small mouth closed and pearly teeth worried at her lip.

"The station is ready to go, don't touch anything or I'll have to start over." It wasn't so much a warning as it was informative, but then he remembered something. "How big?"

Did he like to throw her off? It was hard to tell; he himself wasn't sure why he was doing it to begin with. Would she remember? When he touched her skin, would she remember he had picked her up and taken her to the address on her identification card? It had been a place he didn't have to work hard to avoid. Only now, he was very aware of its existence- like a new area unlocked on a map.

"What?" she asked, confusion giving way when he indicated the sides of his own mouth. "Oh!"

After she gave him her rough approximation, he went to the back room to work up the transfer sheet.

This had to be the most simplistic design he'd ever drawn up. Two dots, but they changed so much. It felt like rebellion. He liked it.

A part of him wanted to rebel as well. To tell her who he was. To tell her what he had done. To say he hadn't stopped thinking about her since that night. How was it that fate brought her back to him? He'd never thought of anyone the way he'd thought of her.

He walked back to his station slowly. Drawing each step carefully, her eyes watched him as he came closer.

They didn't say anything while he sat down and took out a few supplies. A cotton ball was doused with rubbing alcohol and he held it up expectantly.

Her eyebrows went up.

"Ah." He hadn't thought about this. "Is this your first tattoo?"

Before the fall of Death City, most people would have filled out a form, they would have answered questions- there were rules and regulations enforced by health services. Now, there was an air of recklessness. But, that he didn't mean he didn't take precautions. His own personal gift/curse gave him a leg up on blood borne illnesses- werewolf senses had some perks.

Looking at the girl, he knew she wasn't going to be an issue, blood as untainted as her skin. Still, he followed most of the old procedures- minus paperwork, he hated paperwork.

"Mhm," she hummed assent.

The cotton ball came down. "Okay." He started. "I'm going to place the sheet next to your lips. I'll press on it with the alcohol until it transfers to your skin." He lifted the paper slowly. "Ready?"

He waited until she nodded, the smell of alcohol strong between them, but his senses were heightened, the office growing darker with the setting sun. It would be well after dark before he was done. Many a young starting artist made the mistake of confusing simple design with easy or poor execution. He would take his time- knowing she was safe made him less restless to go out into the night. A selfish thought, but an honest one.

When he finished this step he handed her a small mirror. "Do you like the placement?" he asked, watching her face for a reaction. He watched as her eyes flickered from his to the mirror and his stomach did a small flip-flop when a bright, genuine smile split her face, making the dots more pronounced as they complimented her dimples.

Small pearly teeth bit her lower lip in excitement before she croaked out a very enthusiastic, "yes".

"Good." His own face felt too hot. "It's going to hurt. If you need a break tap the chair," he instructed.

Again, she nodded. Then he began.

An old mp3 player was connected to a small speaker, and when he started he concentrated on the noise. Tattoo gun. Indistinct music. Ink on skin.

He worked carefully but efficiently, outlining the first dot and checking in with her as they went. Words, from the music talking of a girl searching for paradise, finally reached him as if from a long, far off distance. And he found himself feeling like this moment, this one thing of normal mundane existence, was the sort of paradise someone might long for.

She didn't ask for breaks. She sat through it without flinching. Not once.

When he was done, he irrigated the corner of her mouth, wiping the skin clean of ink and blood. "You okay?" he asked.

And then he saw his first wince, but she hummed in answer.

"It will probably be sore for a day or so," he said. "You should probably take some pain reliever when you get home."

He sat there that evening thinking about the girl; he hadn't asked what the dots represented to her. But in some strange way, he felt connected, glad to have helped liberate her even if it was only in some small way.

* * *

Weeks later found Eruka sitting in her sanctuary reading Jackson some of the news. SPARTOI was fighting out in the open. The Wolf Man continued to take on enemy forces and Medusa was losing the confidence of the people (not that she'd ever really had it to begin with.)

A small chime from her watch indicated it was time to go. She got up carefully, kissed Jackson on the head, and left for the shop.

She had returned to the shop the day after getting her tattoo. At first she told herself she was only doing it because she was worried about her tattoo possibly being infected. Of course she was healing perfectly and was told as much by Free.

It took her a full week to realize she was probably developing, had developed- she had feelings for the man. And the situation escalated from there. Perhaps, the stressors of being a hench-lackey to the woman that was abusing the city she'd taken over finally put things into perspective for Eruka. Flipped a switch within from day to night.

Whatever the state of things, Eruka realized she didn't have time to waste on what ifs. Or taking her time. She had to trust her gut. Her gut wanted Free, she wanted Free- to be free- to be alive. Maybe she didn't know what she wanted.

Two weeks later he told her what she already had sensed in her gut; he was the man from the alley. He was the wolf man. Medusa had murdered his family and experimented on him with black blood or dark magic- at any rate, he had been cursed but he wasn't going to let her win. He'd been a tattoo artist before he'd been changed and he remained one after. It was a good front to take the pulse of the city for good or bad. So by day he tatted people who unknowingly spilled their truths and by night- he killed the bad ones. Simple as that.

By week three she was in bed with him and honestly wasn't sure why it had taken her even that long.

It caught her completely by surprise one morning after a particularly satisfying wake up call- She. Felt. Hopeful. Eruka burst into giggles, crying and laughing all at once with the startling realization.

Free had walked back into the room eyeing her skeptically.

Eruka's eyed the art that spanned his frame, all of his tattoos were deeply personal. He'd explained the significance behind each one to her. The one on his spine was one she would trace with her fingers often. When he first started transforming he felt like he was descending into a madness. Something he could not control that would be the death of him if he allowed it to dominate him. In time as he began controlling his reaction to the curse, he came up with the idea of the eyes, ever watchful. As he reached the apex of his spine, he knew it would be the last eye and that he was going to triumph. It was more poetic than Eruka had imagined.

The wolf man sat on the edge of the bed, taking in her wild mirth, but he didn't say anything.

"She can't win," Eruka said breathlessly, propping herself up on her elbows in bed. Her ice-blue hair provided some modesty and the sheets covered the rest while she explained. A wide smile punctuated by the marks he'd given her. "She doesn't understand this," she said, followed by more intense giggles.

Free sat there observing with a strangely somber face and it made Eruka even more giddy. "She doesn't get this!" Eruka whispered with a burning intensity.

Love was a thing that Medusa Gorgon couldn't fathom. She'd destroyed families. Torn lives apart. Regardless of whether or not the public knew of it, SPARTOI did, Free did, Eruka did- they knew of the atrocities against humanity committed by Medusa and beyond that, beyond how Medusa's maliciousness had infected the world with madness- she couldn't defeat what she didn't understand. And she didn't understand love. Hope. Friendship. Courage. Bravery.

Those who did were fighting her.

Those who did were gaining ground.

Those who did, their lives were changed as radically as darkest night to brightest day. Like paradise in the midst of hell.

And knowing that, feeling that, made hope bloom in Eruka's heart where she didn't think anything else could take root. They would defeat Medusa. In time they would find a way to make things right. And maybe that didn't mean that she and Free would be welcomed by SPARTOI but it did mean that Eruka and Free would have a chance at a life not dictated by Medusa. And that burned brighter than the despair Medusa tried to inflict.

* * *

The killing blow to Medusa came when the faction known as SPARTOI released damning evidence against the chancellor. Through the same system Gorgon Industries used to enforce curfew, the evidence was broadcast to the citizens.

Eruka was at the reception counter at the shop. Free had been contacted by SPARTOI via the loudmouthed blue haired man. The one who'd been in the chair the day she went to the shop to get her first tattoo. The faction had been looking for citizens gunning to make a stand. The actions of the wolf man had not gone unnoticed.

Eruka wasn't as sure. Buried deep down inside she felt unease in her gut. Did she owe Medusa? The woman had raised her, but she'd had never felt like family, and she could never replace Eruka's parents. Either way, Eruka couldn't face Medusa. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Through Free, she'd learned that a rogue signal had been fed into the Gorgon network, pieced together slowly, painstakingly behind the firewall. When the virus was completely installed it was activated, sending an image of Lord Death looking out on the world. As she watched it all unfold before her, Eruka could only imagine the rifts that were forming over at Death City Hall due to his words.

The hand that rested on the inked skin of her face pressed harder as she watch the accident that took her parents lives replay where Lord Death's face had been. The voice on the screen revealed in a calm tone that Gorgon Industries had been behind the attacks on shibusen school. Gorgon Industries had released _Asura._ They had attacked and sacrificed so many children, turning them into _weapons_. Weapons that were shunned by their own families when no one knew what to do with them. What could normal people do with children that spontaneously burst out blades? Or magic?

There was a feeling of blood rushing in her head, a wordless shriek of anger, and then something exploded near her head, and she screamed in earnest.

Free ran in from the other room, shouting her name, "Eruka!"

"I- I'm okay," she said, trying to figure out what had exactly happened.

Anger, anger at the fact that so many children were used to propel Medusa into power. Anger that Medusa had been behind the accidents that had claimed her family. And...she had been responsible for the curse placed on Free!

This time she felt the build up down to her fingertips. She glanced down in time to see a tadpole like ball growing in her fists before it exploded.

"That came from," Free gestured at her hands wildly, "your palms!"

She...she…."I. Have. MAGIC!?" she screamed gleefully.

It turned out she wasn't the only one affected this way. Most of the members of SPARTOI were comprised of the kids affected by the _Asura_ madness- they were the kids that had developed weapon abilities.

When they informed them of their intent to join their numbers, the blue haired ninja had elbowed her in the ribs. "I knew you were cool," he'd said with a wink. He was incredibly loud too. "With hair such a cool hair color- how could you not be?"

The compliment _had_ made her blush, Free wasn't amused - but if they had time for trivial things like flirting it only meant that she was closer to this long night, this reign of terror ending. A chance for a new day to dawn and bring them into the light.

It turned out that they weren't the only ones either. On the day SPARTOI asked for the denizens of Death City to rise up, the people long tired of living in the shadows rose up.

Eruka had hung back a moment, unsure. She watched a particularly brave girl with her partner, a boy who morphed into a scythe, enter battle without a spare thought to herself. The rest of the group had as well. Blue hair with a tall willowy woman, who was a shadow weapon. A fellow witch, for that was the word given to those who had magic, with a battle lantern. Even a maniacal magical cat.

From behind her came Free, who wrapped his large arms around her- he was half transformed, speaking soft words to her through his ferocious looking maw. "We don't have to do this," his snout tickled the hair on the back of her neck. "We can disappear into the shadows and make our own paradise elsewhere."

Eruka watched frozen. Medusa had finally revealed her magic- she was also a witch, throwing everything she had at the scores of people who fought for their rights. But especially at SPARTOI.

Did she want to disappear into the shadows?

Could she slink away and sulk in her cowardice?

Leave Jackson alone in that dark hole forever?

It turned out she could not. She fought for Jackson, she fought for Free, but most of all she fought for herself, gleefully bombing where she was directed to by Lord Death. When the dust settled, all parties accounted for, the long night ended, a new sun rose shedding light on a brand new day.

* * *

The sun was mercifully behind clouds today. Eruka was bubbling with excitement while Free labored behind her.

In the long weeks since the defeat, Eruka had been working on her new found powers. Particularly some calculation spells she had discovered. It was a thing she had applied to the grounds around the manor Medusa had left behind- mainly to ward off curious do-gooders. She liked to keep her paradise private. But Lord Death had uncovered the deed and it belonged to her family- or it did now.

"Careful," she whispered, excitement and happiness threatening to overflow.

The grounds had a pond. Free had discovered it while making sure there was nothing left of the previous owner. He had also convinced her to wait on moving Jackson for a day that wouldn't blind the poor tadpole who had been raised underground; the luminescence of UV lamps could not compare with the brilliance of the sun. So here they were.

Free grunted but said no more. Then he opened the crate to release Jackson into the wild.

The giant tadpole defied gravity, rocketing into the cloudy sky and flipping around a few times before flying down to nuzzle Eruka's face with a giant croak of gratitude.

"Did you know he could do that?" Free asked, staring at the two with mild, bemused fascination.

Beaming, Eruka shook her head, dimples wide, before the big brute pulled them both into his arms, kissing her head and nuzzling the tadpole affectionately.

This, she realized, was only the beginning. It would take time but she knew it would be worth it. Slowly, Eruka with Free and with Jackson were creating their own paradise.

* * *

 _A/N: This is my submission for Reverb 2018 I was partnered with gunningtwice who is so awesome and incredibly talented be sure to check out her art on tumblr. I was inspired to branch out and try a new Soul Eater ship because of sandmancircus who was awesome and beta'd this along with my beta baes professor-maka, macabremermaid, though-the-brightest-fell, and ashesgone- writing wouldn't be possible without these babes._


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